


Our Love Was Red (the world was blue)

by thegreatandpowerfultoaster



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Roses, Arranged Marriage, Decadence, Fluff, Heist, Heist fic yall bcause of course, Honeymoon, Origin Story, Other, POV First Person, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21694726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatandpowerfultoaster/pseuds/thegreatandpowerfultoaster
Summary: I don't notice, but in my excitement I have moved to hold tighter on Dahlia's hand, and it is at this point in my monologue that he jerks his hand away and brings it to rest on his chest, scowling at me.It is also at this moment that I find that I am not quite as enamoured with Dahlia Rose as I was previously.(A Roses Fic, for the Penumbra Pod Gift Exchange)
Relationships: Duke Rose/Dahlia Rose, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, except not really - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72
Collections: Penumbra Podcast Gift Exchange





	1. Act I: The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crykea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crykea/gifts).



> Title comes from The Altogether's 'Goodbye'. Also, this is just Duke and Dahlia not Peter and Juno at all so I hope I understood your request right :)

You wouldn't know it now, that Dahlia and Duke Rose hadn't fallen in love at first sight. The few that manage to even see them at all would note that they're rarely not touching, never one without the other.

No, you wouldn't guess that Dahlia hated Duke at first, that I was not all that thrilled with Dahlia, either.

It started as a deal. A business deal, really. The Rose's are a very, very intimidating name. They've been the biggest crime family on Mars since nobody can remember when, and if you cross them?

 _Well_. 

You shouldn't cross them. You don't often end up as fortunate as me. 

I wasn't Duke, then. Or I was, but I was going by another name at the time. It didn't matter, the Rose's knew who I was, no matter what name I was using, and graciously invited me to dinner, to talk about a job.

Dinner was...I hesitate to use the word boring. Dahlia says I'm boring, sometimes and likes his mothers very much, but I found the whole affair...Dull.

Duller than dinner with the matriarchs of a crime family like theirs should be, anyways. It was a private thing, and I took it upon myself to make the whole thing a little more interesting by seeing how many little bits and baubles from their lavish private dining area I could slip into the pockets I'd sewn into my waistcoat. 

The answer was predictably a great deal, and the fact that they were too busy telling me about the painting I was supposed to be getting for them, and reminiscing about a previous casing of the museum in their younger days, meant that they didn't notice me shoving all of their things into my pockets.

I thought that they hadn't, at least. They didn't say anything until the china had been taken away, and a second glass of cordial had been drank.

Then Ophelia Rose turned to look at me. Despite her delicate sounding name, she was a sharp woman. If she were younger I'd imagine she'd be something of a smuggler type. Not afraid to get her hands dirty, probably ready to brawl at the drop of a hat.

I'm scared of her, it's safe to say. Even now.

"So, what'r we gonna do with him? Wouldn't mind showing everyone else what happens when you cross us. Hasn't been enough of that lately."

Her wife reaches over to run a hand through Ophelia's dulled green hair. "No, no, darling. Do you remember how we were talking about Dahlia the other day? I don't see why he won't work. He's got spirit, at least."

Celes Rose is no less frightening than her wife, really but she fits more of the classical feminine beauty standards. A heart shaped face and bow lips turned to me with a frown, now.

"Pardon me," I don't remember why I thought it was a good idea to interject, but it just seems to make Celes Rose consider me even more. She doesn't look at me like she wants to dismember me, the way Ophelia does, so that's a start, at least. "What are we talking about, exactly?"

I mean, I _have_ heard of Dahlia Rose. Who hasn't? He's a name just as big as mine, but with the extra little push of the Rose name behind him. 

He supposedly stole that crown from a big museum in Olympus Mons a couple months ago, and that diamond from here in Hyperion City a couple months before that. I (usually) make sure to give people like him (with a name, a legacy) a wide berth as far as jobs go. No need to tread on powerful feet for what might turn out to be a fake.

Yes, I broke my own rule that easily because of boredom.

Celes brushes her hair out of the way of the eye it covers and regards me very seriously. "You're going to marry Dahlia."

"I...Pardon me?"

"Let me explain. You likely don't know, but our name is fading. Dahlia is our only child since Azalea's passing, and that leaves - How many, dear?"

"Twelve," Ophelia says, and begins to list off names of the Rose's, starting with her, and Celes, and Dahlia before moving on to people but enough in their own right, but not quite as notable as those who came first.

I just manage to nod as Celes goes on. "And so we've gone from almost a hundred to twelve, in forty years. At the moment, it's just a matter of catching people's attention again."

"And that is a wedding?"

"I still think a public execution woulda worked just as well," Ophelia says under her breath, reaching for the bottle of cordial across the holographic surface of the table.

It is probably unnecessary for me to say that as unhappy I am about the prospect, I feel much worse about being publicly executed.

"Yes, a wedding followed by an practically impossible job. That will do it, I think."

I don't ask how I can get away from this frankly insane idea, you might notice. That's because I'm perfectly aware that I can't. They'll kill me if I try.

Literally.

I do ask them if this is about the silverware, though. And the snowglobe. And the buttons off of the coat of the last waiter who was in here. And the gum from Ophelia's back pocket. You get the idea.

"No, it's not about the silverware," Celes says. "Well, it is. You're very good. I almost didn't notice what was missing for a moment."

"Thank you. I like to think I have a talent for it."

That makes her laugh and her wife glare at me even more. "It is, however that I think you'd be a good addition to the family."

I smile, but my stomach twists in on itself with an alien feeling - Nervousness. "Well, count me into this plan, then. Do I get to choose the flavour of the cake?"

* * *

There is almost a month between when our previous meeting is and when the matron's of the Rose family set my wedding date, so for that month I do what I do best. Run, that is and don't look back.

Or...Maybe I do look back. 

I _want_ Dahlia to like me, despite the less than optimal circumstances surrounding our...I don't even know what to call it, really.

I send him a letter. Yes, a real, physical letter on a ship as fast as light so it will get to him before I will.

> _Dear Dahila Rose,_

I read this part aloud again and again in the neon purple lights of the hotel room I've chosen to spend the night in. I never get tired of the way it sounds, or the way it looks.

> _Dear Dahlia Rose,_
> 
> _I hope that by now your mothers have told you of me. My name is Duke, and we are going to be married in twenty-six days. It is rather sudden, I know, and I hope I'm not intervening in your life too much -_

Ha.

> _But I find myself absolutely sick with anticipation. Not bad anticipation, but I have heard of the things you've done and find myself excited to be entering something of a partnership with you._
> 
> _I merely wanted to write this letter to perhaps get to know you, or to give something of myself to you before the time of our union arrives. If you have the time, would just kindly write back to tell me something of yourself? I will do the same here._
> 
> _My name is Duke, (I already said that part, of course) and as far as I can recall I do not currently have a last nane. My favorite color is the red I can see when running, really_ running _, bright and blinding and out to get me. I've never seen a cat, but I'm told I'd like them. Do you have cats in Mars? I'd suppose not, since I've never seen one, but maybe it's like those rabbits you have? I have seen one of those, and I'd like to politely inform you that if you think that's a rabbit, you're entirely incorrect._
> 
> _Oddly enough, my favorite flower is a dahlia. I like the way the petals curve in the middle, and the way they sort of round themselves out. Have you seen one of those, too? I'd imagine you receive a lot of them._
> 
> _I suppose the last thing you should know about me is that I'm not really one to settle down, which ought to be a relief for you if we end up despising each other. I'd like to be, but I've been running my entire life and don't really know how to stop. Maybe I could make myself, if it was what you wanted from me._
> 
> _I do hope you'll message me back, but I suppose you're a busy person, so I won't fret too much of you don't._
> 
> _Eternally yours, or best wishes, or something,_
> 
> _Duke_

It is entirely a lie. 

The last bit, I mean. I do fret, when I don't get a letter back. Not because I didn't expect him to ignore me. I did. Engaged or otherwise, a stranger is a stranger and I did suppose I'd have to work on the collective feelings towards 'Us', as it were, but I can't help my somewhat desperate reaction.

I look up pictures, of course and spend the night scrolling through them. There aren't really all that many that don't come from grainy security camera footage, which I do admire, but it doesn't serve my particular purposes all that well (he had more of these grainy photos than I do any photos, and I immediately swell with pride, realizing this).

(Dahlia says it's not a competition, but that's only because he's losing)

Despite my worries and woes the time passes quickly. I collect a dozen or so small things and fence them off in Hyperion City, to a person who claims they are an antique dealer. They are not an antique dealer, and are not subtle enough to stay in their actual trade for long, but I have enough money for what I want anyways and so I do not give them my unsolicited advice.

And then I head to a florist, on the other side of Mars. There are three in Mars, none of them anywhere near Hyperion City. They have exactly what I desire, replicated in exactly the colors I want, and sprayed so they'll last a couple months. It is as close to real flowers as I will ever get, because every florist where these flowers actually grow is likely backed up for months and I'm not sure how exactly one would go about stealing flowers.

Not that I couldn't do it, of course. 

And then, after a very long day of traveling and dealing with florists who think they know what they're talking about more than you do (" _Dahlias and Roses together? Are you sure?_ ") I settle back down in a hotel room in Hyperion City, look up at the horribly textured ceiling and imagine where I will be tomorrow.

And I look over at the crystal vase on the desk and the holographic card hidden in the stems proclaiming it's congratulations proudly in a swirly font.

And for a moment I fret, but then I tell myself that whether Dahlia Rose likes me or not, tomorrow I will have a place. That ought to just serve to scare me more, because I have never had a place except for the one I carved out for myself even when my hands were blistered, bloody and bruised. But no. I feel excited. 

Whatever happens, tomorrow I will no longer be Duke Without-A-Name, I will be Duke Rose, and everything I have done will be worth it.

* * *

Dahlia Rose is a vision in white and gold at the end of a too-long aisle in a top warm room filled with too many people that I do not know. The train of his gown has twisted behind him, and a wreath of laurels sits stop his head. He looks back at me down the forever long aisle and states, judging. 

I smile while he scowls, and little do I know that it is not a one time occurrence. 

I don't remember all that much about the ceremony itself, just coming to rest beside Dahlia and feeling the weight of many, many eyes on me. I assume at the time that Ophelia Rose has people watching me, to make sure I don't back down. Later, I learn that it was just Ophelia herself, are doing in the back of the room with a few knives strapped to her and something with a very powerful scope. 

I don't back down, though. 

We don't kiss, just then. Lean on for the show, and then Dahlia leans in further, so that I can feel his warm breath on my ear. "Don't you dare fuck this up for me," my new wife tells me.

Awfully romantic, isn't it?

Of course, I haven't got the slightest clue what he means, but I offer a short nod anyways and we turn back to the crowd and I smile. 

The reception is much the same, saying thank you to a thousand people I don't know, and holding lightly onto Dahlia's hand, because we haven't actually gotten the chance to speak to each other, yet and I'm not certain I'm allowed to hold his hand, exactly. Although I'd suspect (and rightly so) that if he did not want me holding his hand, I would not be.

Celes comes up to us almost at the end of the long line of guests, and takes Dahlia's free hand in her own. "You're doing well?"

"Fine," Dahlia says, and I just nod. 

Celes lets go of Dahlia's hand and turns her full attention on me. "Your transport to Jupiter will be leaving tonight, can you pack by then?"

"Of course. I travel light, and I'm always traveling. You still haven't told me exactly what it is we're going to be doing on Jupiter."

"Me neither," Says my wife, glaring daggers at his mother. "I don't like being kept in the dark."

I get the impression that he is not just talking about the heist we'll be doing on Jupiter, but I don't say anything to intervene and just watch Celes Rose hide her eye roll but moving to push some of her immaculately done red hair out of her face. "Darling, there is no point to being hostile about any of this. It's done and over with, and tou get to leave Mars, like you want. You've both heard of the quite famous painting of Eleanore I, first monarch of Jupiter?"

 _"Oh stars,"_ I just can't help it. "Please tell me that's what we're stealing?" It's a challenge. It's in the palace, probably the most expensive thing in the palace, and not only has physical guards but it's own security system, hooked up to a separate generator, with a backup, and I -

I don't notice, but in my excitement I have moved to hold tighter on Dahlia's hand, and it is at this point in my monologue that he jerks his hand away and brings it to rest on his chest, scowling at me.

It is also at this moment that I find that I am not quite as enamoured with Dahlia Rose as I was previously. I'm certain you can add up the reasons why by yourself, but I will note that I did not stoop so low as to scowl back. 

Celes either doesn't see this development between us (or much more likely) elects to ignore it. "Yes, dear. How exactly will be up to you, but I trust you'll both come up with something suitably dramatic and fitting for the situation."

I have a thousand ideas of how I could pull this off.

_I._

Not we. 

The truth is, I'm not sure how Dahlia works. I have always, always worked alone. I have a thousand ideas about how I could pull this off, but I haven't got even one about how _we_ ought to.

Alright, I do do know that I can't panic, though. That won't solve anything, and the Roses' faith in me will lessen, and I cannot possibly have that, because I am a Rose now myself. 

Celes leaves, and I busy myself again with greeting mindless congratulations. The faces blur together, but they are not what matter. What matters is the upcoming job. My breath catches in my throat when I think of it, and even now I can't tell if it was out of excitement or nerves.

It's the cloud that covers the rest of my wedding day, and the next breath of fresh air I get is packing. It all is very, very real, suddenly and I realize that this is real. Frighteningly so, in fact. 


	2. Act II: The Heist

The shuttle is cold, and I am trying not to shiver, but I hadn't exactly been prepared for the cold, and left my coat with my other things in the cargo bay. Dahlia's sitting across from me, trying to ignore my presence.

At least I can tell that he's cold, too with the way he pulls his fluffy fur coat closer to himself. 

It isn't exactly fitting the low-key look I wanted to arrive with, but I suppose it will have to do. "You were sent details about the security, right?" I ask instead of making a comment on anything else. It is best to get started no, I think. Before we land, and anything has a chance to go wrong.

Dahlia nods. "Yeah, but I haven't got a clue how comprehensive it is. We're meeting a contact on the planet who'll probably know more."

"And do you trust this contact?"

I get a scowl, as if I was supposed to know better than to ask. "Of course I do. And even if I didn't, it's not your concern." 

I'm fairly certain that if we get sold out by a contact, it will be my concern, I simply mean to ask ahead of time. You haven't done any jobs outside of those on Mars, have you?"

I don't mean to be rude, really. It's a simple observation, made by someone who has been roaming the solar system his entire life. I can see that Dahlia doesn't see it this way, the way his eyes light up with pure, unfiltered fury, and he straightens in his seat, tugging his coat around himself again and trying to look intimidating. 

It works, of course. I'm horribly frighended, of whatever Dahlia Rose will do to me if I don't shut my mouth and listen.

"I know what I'm doing, whether I've been off Mars or not," he tells me. "So how about this, you stay quiet, and stay out of my way, and I'll let you go wherever the hell you want without a peep once this job is done."

I don't say anything, and it's good enough for him. We sit in silence, again and I try not to devote anything to thinking about how cold I am.

The contact is...not what I expected. She meets us at the dock, and I only know she's who were waiting for because she immediately good up to Dahlia and hugs him, saying something incomprehensible into the fur of his collar. 

He is trying not to look pleased about it, and is utterly failing. "Hey Phoebe, a'been a while."

Phoebe pulls back from him and grins. "Sure has, Ms. Rose. It's been real long. Wll, maybe for me but not for you, y'know because the years are different? sure , we got standard times and lights and sruff, but still. Ooh, oh! Mrs. Rose mentioned you'd be bringin' someone with ya. Is that him?"

I do a small bow. "Duke Rose, at your service."

Her eyes widen, exactly how I hoped they would. " Whoa, does that mean - holy heck on Herse, Dahlia...Did you -"

"No," he's quick to snap. "It's not like that."

"I'll be thrilled to hear what it _is_ like, then." I tell him. Phoebe must notice an argument brewing because she makes a quick comment about the state of docking control on Jupiter and ushers us to her craft, which is a small shuttle, standard looking in every way that matters. 

It's perfect. 

"Thanks, Mister Rose," Phoebe says, and I realize I must have spoken aloud, and I am definitely staring at the ship. "It don't look like much on the outside, or the inside, really but it's basically my home so obviously I just had 'ta outfit it all nice. It can outrun basically everything, y'know? But I had to take the jump drive out, which is okay because until Misses Rose - um, not yours - tells me, so gotta stay in Jupiter 'cause this is where Mister Rose - still not your Mister Rose - is tryin' to take down Luzma Solutions, the big tech firm. And I'm helpin'"

She talks fast. And a lot. It's...charming. I'm glad Dahlia can like her, or at least be civil towards her. It gives me hope for myself. Oh, well. I'm very glad you could take off the day to help us. Luzma makes the VR pods, right?"

She nods and goes off again. I admittedly manage to pay less attention this time, because we're entering the shuttle and I'm trying very hard to pick out details that imply that this ship is something special. I see nothing, but an expert wouldn't leave traces, I suppose.

We lift off, surprisingly quickly. I catch Dahlia squeezing her eyes shut, and holding on to the back of Phoebe's chair tightly, before turning away from the view of Jupiter's capitol zooming past us in stripes of color. 

_It hadn't been that way in the shuttle here_ \- but I quickly realize he'd been sitting with his back to the window in the shuttle. 

Now is an excellent time to start really planning, I think. "Lets look at our information," I say, "And see about the best way to handle it. And Phoebe, dear, do chime in if you know any more about it than we do. "

"Sure thing, mister Rose!" She says, overlapping Dahlia's affirmative grunting. 

"Alright, then. Dahlia, why don't you begin."

He forgets with the Catalan for a moment, like he isn't quite sure how to use it, and I immediately steel myself to the feeling that rises in me when I see how his face scrunches up as he concentrates. Finally he gets it to turn on. "Okay. So there's obviously the palace guard in the way, but their patrols should be easy enough to keep up with. The security footage shows someone coming by every fifteen minutes. On the dot, actually."

_He's right, of course. It is easy. This particular royal guard is trained in marksmanship, swordplay, and two types of martial arts. It doesn't matter much, because they are just as predictable as any other royal guard, anywhere._

_"After you, Milady," I say, holding the front gate open and performing a flourish with my free hand. Dahlia glares, but takes the first steps onto the grounds._

"Then there's the uh...Laser system."

"Oh! Oh!" Phoebe swivels around in the pilots chair. "You gotta turn that one off, since it switches frequencies and locations randomly. It's on a backup generator hidden two doors down to the left."

_It becomes a competition fast. Who can sneak the closest to a guard without getting caught. Who can steal the most things not nailed down. Of course, it's about as ridiculous as it sounds, but it's a matter of pride. Dahlia's good, of course but I'm better. I have to be._

_I come up with the idea, of course. "Whoever actually manages to grab the painting wins."_

_For a moment, I think that's it. They way he tilts his head at me and frowns makes me think I've pushed too far, and we don't get to play anymore. After a moment of silence though, he nods. "You're on. We'll both to turn off the generator, so it's fair. After that, there'll be -" He struggles with his comms again, and I itch to help. "Seven minutes until the next guard passes. Plenty of time to grab it and get out."_

"And after that, the last think you'll need to worry about is gettin' out, since the painting has an alarm behind it, and you won't be able to turn that off until you got somethin' to dig into the wall and disarm it manually. Just don't fort that part 'cause then the package guard are all gonna be in you in probably less than a minute, and then you'll be little dust particles - But you're both pretty experienced, right? You'll remember."

_One moment we're running back down the hall, Dahlia playfully holding me back with an arm flung over my midsection, and we're shooting almost done glances at each other. The painting ends up in my hands, and I hold it up like a trophy._

_We forget the alarm, somehow._

It rings just for a moment, vibrating through my head, before I can't hear anything at all. White hot pain blossoms in my shoulder, and someone screams like they're underwater. It might be me. Dahlia must tug me out of the way after that, because I fall into my back, and watch a shot fire into the wall behind us, where my head just was.

It must hit the alarm, since the ringing abruptly stops, and my hearing comes back to me enough that I can hear the sound of fire, coming too close for comfort.

The painting is near Dahlia, now. The other side of the room feels like a world away with blinding laser rounds coming between us. He's tipped over a glass and wood display case and ducked behind it, popping up occasionally to fire a shot.

He hits every single time, and guards fall down more often than not. It doesn't matter, though. Even I can see that we're hopelessly outnumbered and cornered.

I don't even have time to start that particular panic before the fire abruptly stops, and I have time to start thinking about how much my shoulder hurts. 

It's quiet then, for a minute. It's arguably worse than the ear-splitting, deafening sound of the alarm. Dahlia has pulled himself up tightly to stay behind the display case, and he shoots me a scowl, like this is my fault, somehow. 

I suppose that it is. Not entirely, of course, but I didn't remember the alarm either. 

"Well," the silence is shattered like glass. The voice is of one who knows they've caught their prey in a corner, where there is no hope of escape. "It seems we've caught ourselves some thieves."

Footsteps echo in the room, coincided and closer. I dare to peek out, just for a moment. The head of the guard is barely illuminated by the lights on the guard's comms put together, but I can see enough to frighten me. They're armed to the teeth, with high tech weapons that you wouldn't see anywhere not on Jupiter - or if you did, then you'd have to know just where to look on them.

"It happens less often than you'd think, actually. And they don't usually get this far. They usually turn off the generator outside and don't realize the lasers are still on. Impressive, but not good enough.

"You're cornered, and in case you burnt noticed, there's no way out. So here is my proposition to you; You give up and come with us, and we won't kill you. You can sit in a cell until morning, and then we'll see what I feel like doing with you then. Who knows, we might even ship you back to wherever you came from and throw you in a prison closer to home.

"Or, you can try to fight. But you're not going to win. I have in my hand an experimental weapon from a local company. You probably won't have heard of it - but it's called the Haliat. Think of it as a standard blaster, but heat seeking. I fire it, and you get to see what exactly that means for both of you. 

"You have two minutes to decide what you want to do. We'll be just outside the door."

Footsteps start again, and get quieter, and the double doors shut. 

I let myself panic for exactly five seconds. Then I look over to Dahlia, who's counting rounds in his blaster, and swearing up a storm. "Not enough?"

"Four. And even if I made every single one of those shots count, it's not enough. Damnit, I'm not going down like this."

"Of course not. We give ourselves up."

"What?! Hell no!"

I shake my head, slowly. "I can get us out. I can't get us out here."

"You don't get it -" I am certain he wants to wring my neck, so I give thanks that I am across the room still, clutching at my shoulder and thinking that he doesn't get it. " They're not just getting me. If this - any of this - gets back to Mars, to my family, that's it! I'm done, they're done. No more Roses. That should mean something to you, now."

"I -"

"I'm not done," he says, voice commanding attention. I quickly close my mouth. "Why do you think I've never left the planet, huh? Because my brother - my twin, did. and if you'll notice, _Duke_ , he's not exactly around anymore. I wouldn't do that to my parents again."

"I'm sorry, Dahlia. I wouldn't - won't - let anything happen to you. You have my word." Not that I think he'll be especially thrilled with that offer. But he doesn't tear at me, immediately, and after a moment, the anger in his expression disappears entirely, replaced by a sort of squinty, thoughtful look. 

"You're bleeding," he says. If I didn't know better, I'd say that my dear wife sounded worried about me.

I look down towards my shoulder, as if this is news to me. "It appears so, yes."

"You can still get us out?"

"I haven't lost that much blood. Yes, Dahlia. I will. Do you trust me?"

"Not even a little," he says, but he's grinning at me.

The guard opens the door, headed by a heavily armed figure with a very long rifle. They're met by two figures holding their hands up in the universal sight for surrender. The shorter one is holding up the taller one, who is beginning to look a little pale. They miss a crucial step, the royal guard. 

We're unarmed, a quick check confirms, but they don't look for thinner things, like a pickpocket set. Or a plasma cutter. I hold my arm out to Dahlia, once I've cut through his cell. He smirks, and takes it. My heart swells and I can no longer ignore it. I think I can understand Dahlia Rose now, after all, and it is terribly hard to remain upset in any capacity.

The gallery room is left unguarded for now, the painting hasn't even been replaced. It's laughably simple, all things considered. they only catch up to our escape once we're out the front doors, and from there it's home free for us.


	3. Act III: The Beginning (Reprise)

I've got a blaster bolt through my shoulder, and Dahlia's arm in mine, and admittedly, I've never felt more alive than I do at this moment. As we sprint towards the shuttle.

He kisses me, once we've just got off the ground. It's fast, and bruising, and wanting, and very reminiscent of the adrenaline still coursing through me like electricity.

"Well, I don't suppose your mother's will argue that we made quite the show."

He snorts, nose scrunching up when he does. It's awfully cute. "No, guess not. Now they're definitely not going to want me to leave Mars."

"Oh but dear," I lean in close, mumble in his head in a way that I know won't - _can't_! - go ignored. "We haven't been on our honeymoon yet." 

He sucks in a sharp breath, and draws back to look at me. " _Duke_ -"

"Mister and Missus Rose? They're not followin' us anymore," Phoebe says.

Our eyes don't leave each others, but Dahlia turns his head slightly and nods. "Great, can you get us back to port in Attis?"

At least she seems to notice she interrupted...something, because she says. "Sure, no problem!" And then backs out of the shuttle's back room fast.

"Dahlia -" I say, at the same time he says. "Lemme bandage that up for you."

"No," he says, backing up a few steps himself and holding his hands out. "Not yet, we'll talk when we get back. I'm serious, though. Phoebe's gotta keep a first-aid kit in here, and you're bleeding pretty bad, so..."

"Okay." He looks at me like he expected more of a fight. "Should I sit?" I do before he even asks, or course, and he sits there and looks at me for a minute, before softly snorting and turning away to look for the first-aid kit. 

I fall asleep like that, leaning against the wall, and Dahlia bandaging up my shoulder, and it isn't so bad. This just means that when we get on the shuttle back to Mars, I've just got to busy myself with my thoughts. Dahlia leans on me after we sit for a while. 

"So you don't completely hate me," I say. "That's reassuring."

He shoots me a look, but it doesn't feel all that threatening. "Did I not make it clear enough?" I'm kissed again, until I'm breathless. "You're kind of an airhead, Duke."

"I - I -" I'd like to think I'm an eloquent man. I have trained myself over the years to school my expession, and to always know what to say, and exactly how to say it, but I've suddenly forgotten everything. "Huh."

Dahlia laughs at me for a moment before settling back at my side. I'm horribly smitten, again. Worse than I was the first time, before I'd even met him.

"Where do you want to go? I'll take you anywhere."

He looks at me, again, looking confused for a moment, before it really settles in. "M-Me?"

I nod. "You."

"First, home, and then I'll pack, really pack - and then...It's stupid. I have a list of places I wanted to go. Things I wanted to see."

"I'll take you. I'll get them for you."

"I -" he flushes dark. "I didn't say thank you. For the flowers. Saw them on my table, at home. _Nobody's ever got me_ \- Well, I thought it was pretty funny." I get another kiss, for my florist troubles. "I think," Dahlia says slowly, squinting at me like he's trying to see something. "That I'm going to fall in love with you, Duke Rose."

"We have all the time in the world for that, Dahlia Rose. And I'm quite looking forward to it."


End file.
